


like fire, like water

by taskinst



Series: like fire, like water [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, in which i try to write poetic smut because well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taskinst/pseuds/taskinst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He made his life hell, and yet he was everything to him. He was the one he hated and the one he dreaded, but also the one he loved to hate and somehow looked forward to dreading every day. He made him feel—</p>
<p>—like fire that was somehow made to burn more brilliantly because it was touched by water; like some kind of miracle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like fire, like water

**Author's Note:**

> I switch narrators and POVs (going from 1st person to 3rd person and a different person entirely) constantly in this story - just a bit of a heads up for people who feel uncomfortable with that but I promise it felt somewhat necessary at the time of writing.

* * *

_Some are like water, some are like the heat; some are the melody and some are the beat._

* * *

  
Harry is like water.

He’s there, he’s definitely there. More than enough times he’s been far too close, his breath lingering on my skin as he places butterfly kisses all over my face and neck, missing my lips just by a fraction of an inch and then moving away as he hears my breath hitch in my throat.

Every time I try to hold on to him, put my arms around him, to make him stay ( _please don’t go, I hate you but I want you here looking at me, touching me, please_ ), he slips right through my fingers as though he was never there to begin with. Like water.

But also like water, he leaves a thin layer of residue that cools my skin and haunts me in the aftermath. He never lets me forget, until it all evaporates and… for a short moment it’s gone, but he’s there, he’s always there, and he’ll always come back.

Then I’m left standing there with my back against the wall, like a fireball ready to explode because he always leaves me hot and confused, unraveling my sanity just the right amount to drive me crazy.  
  


* * *

  
Gym was the last class of the day for Niall and the changing rooms were now empty. The blond boy heaved a sigh of relief as he exited the shower, water dripping from his damp hair and caressing the pale skin on his body. When he reached the corner he had put his belongings, he paused as he observed the placement of everything and frowned.

Shit.

“Don’t think you could avoid me just by waiting until everyone left,” said a voice from not too far away. Spinning around, Niall watched as – just as he expected – a curly-haired boy pushed himself off of the wall on the other side of the room and made his way towards him.

“Harry…” Niall said through gritted teeth, his tone dark as if in warning. But Harry only smirked cheekily as he approached the smaller boy.

“Not so menacing now that you’re dripping wet and naked and—”

Niall gasped as he was suddenly restrained against the wall behind him.

“—hmmm…” Harry paused as he buried his face into Niall’s neck. Inhaling lightly and taking in the boy’s fresh clean scent, he made sure to carefully blow some warm air onto the sensitive spot on the juncture of the blond’s neck. “… and smelling good.”

Niall thrashed under the younger boy’s grip, but after finding that his hands were stuck in an unyielding grip, held against the wall, he gave up and glared sternly at Harry’s green eyes. He was in no mood to fight – not while he was naked with only a towel wrapped around his hips and still dripping.  

“My clothes,” Niall hissed under his breath.

“You will get them back,” Harry began as he slowly raised the smaller boy’s hands above his head, pushing them together so he could hold the small wrists in one hand. A small half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he let his free hand slide leisurely down Niall’s side, feeling the goose bumps forming on the boy’s soft skin. The hand stopped when it reached the hem of the white towel wrapped around small hips.

“You’ll get them back when you admit you’ve been avoiding me,” the brunet whispered into Niall’s ear. He slipped a finger beneath the towel as though in warning – the towel loosened slightly but stayed on, just dangerous enough to make the blond gasp, blue eyes widening.  
  


* * *

  
Niall is like the heat.

He’s like the addictive flame of a match stick that you can’t help but ignite one after the other, and every time I light one up, I see a dream as the fire burns, and it warms my stone cold heart. Niall lets me feel humanity. He makes everything feel alive and so  _real_ that I’m inclined to believe it’s not ( _I’m hallucinating, I think, and he’s too much like a dream to be true_ ). And every time the flame burns out, I’m left alone in the dark again.

I love the way the natural pink hue on his face spreads from his ears to the apples of his cheeks. It gradually changes to a flaming red and reaches as far as his neck – yet through the redness of his skin, his natural pale glow still shines through and he lights up the dark like fire. But most of all, I love the way his blue eyes flash as I corner him and tell him he has no way of escaping – the way he would look up at me in pure unadulterated anger… and in that moment his eyes are like the glimmering surface of the sea on a hot summer day, hot, bright, breathtaking. Like the heat.

But water cools the heat; it turns it into dull warmth.  
  


* * *

  
“Harry—hnnngh,” Niall moaned as the younger boy gave the sensitive spot on his neck an extra hard suck. He had one hand on Harry’s shoulder – ah, his wide shoulders and his toned arms, the result of hours spent in the gym, something Niall could never make himself do – and the other nestled in the boy’s curly hair. Despite the mass of curls, his hair was soft and Niall always hated to admit but he loved the feel of it between his fingers as he ran his hands through the strands roughly, occasionally pulling harsher than he meant to. Harry never complained – how could he? Not when this was what he did to Niall on a near daily basis.

The towel hanging on Niall’s hips had long slipped off – he had no idea when that happened. He couldn’t possibly have paid attention to that when there were hands roaming all over him and a sinful mouth doing unspeakable things to his neck, making his body betray his mind ( _every single time_ ).

Only until Niall suddenly felt a little… breezy in his lower regions did it occur to him – that…

“Harry!” he exclaimed as his eyes snapped open, but Harry didn’t remove himself and his head remained buried between Niall’s shoulder and neck.

Yet, Niall felt the younger boy’s lips curve into a smile against his shoulder.

“It’s so cute how get so distracted that you don’t notice things like that,” he said in his trademark monotone drawl.

Niall’s eyes flashed as he opened his mouth to respond – hating that Harry always called him cute – but his words went straight out the window and only silence escaped.

He suddenly found those fucking hands – the ones he could never resist and he hated himself for it – stroking him. What the fuck, Harry never had any decency to hold back! Why did he have to push it this far – in the changing room? What if somebody walked in?  
  


* * *

  
Niall is like the melody.

He is striking and always immediately noticeable. He’s likeable in a way that everyone wants to hum along to him – so much so, in fact, that I always find myself wanting to hide him and be the only one in the world who knows his sound.

He is the biggest melody of them all, and all the other harmonies and beats can only match up to him, trying to be on the same frequency. And because everything is secondary and complementary to the melody, he blossoms like a flower and becomes so beautiful and delicate that he is untouchable.

Only the sun can touch him.

There is only heat for the melody and only water for the heat (and then the heat is gone).

There is only water for the melody.  
  


* * *

  
“I hate you,” Niall bit out as he tried his best to keep his eyes open and glaring at the boy before him, but it was hardly persuasive as his lips were trembling from holding back the noises he wanted to make.

Harry scoffed.

“I know,” he said. “But only on some level.”

“No, I hate you, on all levels,” Niall snapped back.

Harry gave the smaller boy’s erection a hard tug in response, causing him to almost fall over. He now had his entire weight on Harry, the steady arm around his waist pulling him close and his own arms around the younger boy’s shoulders being the only reasons why he wasn’t already on the floor.

“I know,” the curly-haired boy repeated.

“Goddammit Styles stop saying you kno—ah!”

Niall almost removed his arms from Harry’s shoulders so he could cover his mouth to stop the embarrassing sounds from escaping, but it was too late. Plus, he couldn’t remove his arms because then he really would fall over. His legs had long gone so weak that he wasn’t really standing on his own anymore.

“I really – ahh! – h-hate you!” the blond boy managed to add between the other sounds he was making, punching Harry in the back as hard as he could (not very hard) to make his feelings known.

“I know.”

Anger at Harry’s monotone, flippant response almost gave Niall enough energy and motivation to push him away, and he really was about to, but the situation was never on his side. That was the exact moment when he began to feel a familiar heat in his stomach.

“Ah—fuck,” he muttered as he bit his lip to contain the pleasure swirling all over his body and concentrating on his lower half. He tightened his grip on Harry’s shoulders and his nails dug into shoulder blades.

Harry only smirked as he realized that Niall was close, and he sped up the up-down motion of his hand, making sure to keep his other arm firmly around the smaller boy’s waist to keep up from falling.

Niall could feel his entire body tremble as he shut his eyes and – literally started seeing stars. He would never have pinned himself as this type of person but every time Harry… every time Harry did this to him he always came violently, and yet he  _hated_  this guy. He really did, for everything that he did to him, for the way he made his life hell, for the dread he made him feel every day, just knowing that Harry could be anywhere ready to corner him.

He hated him, and yet there was no denying that he liked this.

He hated him, and he dreaded seeing him every day, but he would never wish for it to stop.

He made his life hell, and yet he was everything to him. He was the one he hated and the one he dreaded, but also the one he loved to hate and somehow looked forward to dreading every day. He made him  _feel_ —

—like fire that was somehow made to burn more brilliantly because it was touched by water; like some kind of miracle.

And then the stars disappeared because he saw white. All he remembered after was slumping as Harry pulled him into his arms and they stood there for a long, long time. Somehow he was dressed again later and found himself coming to his senses again, alone in the changing room.  
  


* * *

 

When the match burns out, everything is dark and the wooden stick gets discarded.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
He never did admit that he had been avoiding Harry – but only because if he admitted it he would have to face up to it.

And lately it had all been too real.

 

* * *

  
Harry is like the beat.

He’s what makes everything move, what gives life to the melody, what keeps me going forward.

We’re polar opposites, and yet without each other the song would be incomplete.

The music has just begun playing, but the melody and the beat are already inseparable.  
  
  


* * *

 

_Sooner or later they all will be gone._   
  
  


* * *

Don’t leave.

\--

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

* * *

  
  
Sometimes, Harry holds my hand as he kisses my neck and he strokes the inside of my palm with his thumb gently.

 

* * *

I love you and one day I will let you know.

\--

So maybe someday, he will kiss me properly.

* * *

 

 

_Why don’t they stay young?_


End file.
